A World Devoid

In a complex turn of life’s events,
my over simplification becomes a rebellion.
Or a long-forgotten project of denial.
Fanaticism is rather more the color-filled option
of a ranting raving brain
confused and twisted
by the revealing similes
making silken fabric of glorified threads.

Roller ride batter-y.
And a play enacted on the drama
of nonplussed peoples
walking the matrix of the mundane,
trying hard to work a plan of persuasion;
hoping against hope
that the audience will partake
rather blindly to applaud
and be awed by the emptiness.

Scripts unwritten and words unsaid
do nothing to alleviate
the lividness
of gray and bland and tasteless.
People smile and continue
to show fake appreciations
where there should be none.

Feeling nothing,
they keep on moving towards the abyss.
Feeling abysmal
they continue toward nothingness.

Little matters in a world devoid of meaning.